Glass
by Rabidnar
Summary: It has been 8:35 for hours in this town with no way out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I had the darkest nightmare last night from Aubrey's POV, and it hasn't left my mind all day - like, so dark I feel like I need to add a trigger warning even for people who actively read my writing and know what to expect. This is graphic and heavy. Have fun.

* * *

**Time Made of Ice and Glass**

* * *

_You saw my pain, washed out in the rain,_  
_Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins._  
_But you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart,_  
_And you knelt beside my hope torn apart._  
_\- Mumford and Sons_

* * *

"You must have missed the exit."

"I didn't miss the exit."

"Okay, well, this isn't where you work, Aubrey."

"I can see that."

"So, you must have missed the exit."

Aubrey sighs – the long, tired, heavy sigh of someone whose boss asked her to go pick up some last minute paperwork literally two minutes before she was about to head out the door with Chloe for dinner. "Chloe," she says slowly, controlled, "I drive this way every day – twice a day, actually. I drive to work, and then I come back, the exact same damn way. I have been on this road a thousand times. I didn't miss the exit."

"You don't actually take the exit on the way home. You-" Chloe stops herself when Aubrey's grip tightens on the wheel. "It looks like there's a gas station up there. Let's just turn around."

"Fine." It's not like they have any other choice. Because the town that they're approaching from some back ass road in the middle of Narnia is not where Aubrey's job is located. Her car crunches ice and gravel underneath its tires like it's as reluctant as Aubrey is to drive any farther down this road. But the trees on either side of them prevent her from doing a U-turn in the middle of the one, single lane. How the hell did she end up here?

Chloe fiddles with the radio – doing a good job at driving Aubrey even crazier by flipping from one staticy station to the next. "You know, none of this would be happening right now if you had just said no to your boss."

Like Aubrey doesn't feel guilty enough that they're both starving, and she somehow just added an extra twenty minutes to their trip. "You can't say _no _to your boss."

"I do."

"You're your own boss," Aubrey reminds her.

"That's weird," Chloe says, "Because you act like it's you."

Aubrey stops her car once she turns into the gas station parking lot and gives Chloe a look. "Do you want to _walk_?"

"No, but I would like something to eat," Chloe replies with a roguish smile, leaning in closer to Aubrey's face.

Aubrey puts the car in park. "Get out."

Chloe kisses her cheek. "Thank you." She unbuckles herself and gets out of the car – then stops to stand by the hood.

Aubrey realizes Chloe is waiting for her to follow – and also she needs their debit card. She groans then unbuckles and follows Chloe inside the tiny store – wrinkling her nose at the sour, metallic smell that wafts through her nostrils the moment they step inside. "Are you sure you want to buy something here?"

"Yeah, why?" Chloe asks.

"You don't smell that?" Aubrey asks.

"Smell what? It smells like a gas station." Chloe leads her down the snack aisle, looking at her options.

"Well, _this _gas station is making me sick to my stomach," Aubrey informs her, "So, hurry up." She wraps her arms around her stomach and glances around at the food. The place is practically empty – like everything has been picked off the shelves in preparation for another snow storm to hit. Only, there are no other customers. Maybe the delivery trucks just couldn't get in with new deliveries after the last storm… Her stomach starts to roll like an off-kilter washing machine due to the smell. "Seriously, Chloe, before I throw up."

"Does it really smell that awful in here to you?" Chloe picks a granola bar off the shelf.

"_Yes._"Aubrey is literally going to puke if they do not walk out the door in the next sixty seconds.

"Maybe you're pregnant," Chloe suggests.

"I'm _serious_, Chloe."

Chloe looks at her face, and nods. "Okay, come on." She reaches for her arm and pulls her toward the cashier desk.

Aubrey looks around for the cashier. The store appears to be empty. "Hello?" she calls, already impatient.

"Relax. Maybe they're in the back," Chloe says, "Do you want to go wait in the car?"

Aubrey didn't even want to get out to begin with. She nods and pulls out her wallet to hand it to Chloe for her to pay, then turns and nearly jumps out of her skin to see the cashier standing a few feet away. "You shouldn't do that to people." She dodges Chloe's hand about to smack a kinder tone into her.

"Hi, I'm going to buy this," Chloe says cheerily, and places the granola bar on the counter.

The guy – dressed in a blue uniform, with greasy brown hair doesn't say anything. He merely steps behind the counter and stares at them, and it makes Aubrey question how long a human can go without blinking.

Chloe pulls their debit card out of Aubrey's wallet, and offers it to him.

He moves in an almost robotic manner as he picks up the granola bar and scans it, never once taking his eyes off of Aubrey and Chloe. He swipes the card then hands it back.

Aubrey takes the card from him and her wallet from Chloe, quickly stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans. As much as she wants a receipt, because she doesn't trust this place at all, she pulls Chloe and her granola bar away from the counter and back out the door – because she doesn't trust this place _at all. _

"That was weird," Chloe comments as she walks back to the car.

Aubrey inhales a deep breath of the cold, crisp winter air – finally free of whatever _that _was. "I can't believe you wanted to go in there." She opens her door and climbs back into the car.

"How was I supposed to know the cashier was just going to stare at us?" Chloe asks, "Maybe he has a disorder or something?"

"That prevents him from blinking? Maybe it's also him that smells like that." Aubrey shuts her door and pulls on her seat belt. It refuses to latch. She jams it into the buckle roughly twenty times as Chloe just watches, already bucked up. This entire evening is shit. She lets the seat belt fly back up and stares out the front window – wrinkling her forehead as the guy instead stares out at their car. What a creep.

"You okay?" Chloe asks.

"How am I supposed to drive?" Aubrey asks, and turns to face her.

"You put the key in the ignition and turn it," Chloe tells her.

"And if the police pull us over?" Aubrey asks.

"Just tell them you pulled over at a gas station, and when you went to get back in the car, your seat belt wouldn't buckle," Chloe says.

Aubrey tries to buckle it one more time, but to no avail.

"Do you want to just go home?" Chloe asks sympathetically, "We can cook dinner; you can get your files in the morning."

Tempting but, "No."

"Do you want _me _to drive?"

Also, "No."

"You seem like you've been in a bad mood since we got into the car." Chloe reaches over and rubs the back of Aubrey's neck.

Aubrey starts the car, and leaves it in park, dropping her hand back down to her lap. She _has _been in an irritable mood since they got in the car. Probably, because she skipped lunch at work, and she's hungry and exhausted – and now she's taking it out on Chloe, who has done nothing to her but suggest they go have a nice dinner, minutes before Aubrey's boss called and told her that he has more work for her. And that freaky guy in that putrid smelling gas station, who has finally stopped staring at them and is standing motionless with his back to the door, did not make things better.

She takes another deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive us home?" Chloe asks.

Aubrey wants nothing more now than for Chloe to drive them home. "I'm sure." She takes the car out of park and backs out of the parking lot, taking the road back toward the highway. This time, she's going to take the _correct_ exit, even though she can't imagine how she could have possibly taken the wrong one, and they'll pick up her files then go to dinner. "Where do you want to eat?"

"There's that Italian place near your office," Chloe suggests, "Let's go there. It's good, and _close_."

Aubrey nods. That sounds good. Anywhere sounds good at this point – minus that gas station. She drives them back to the highway, as Chloe stops rubbing her neck to eat her granola bar, and finds somewhere to make a U-turn. "_Look_," she says as they pull off onto their exit again, "This is the exit to my job."

"Mhm," Chloe agrees, "It's just not the exit you took last time."

"It _is _the exit I took last time. It's the same exit I take every day."

"It can't be the -"

The asphalt becomes gravel under Aubrey's tires, and the road merges into one lane surrounded by trees – and Aubrey feels sick again.

"_What_?" Chloe asks incredulously and turns to look out the back window, "That doesn't make any sense. Maybe they switched the exit number?"

"In the middle of the day without any warning to anyone?" Aubrey asks.

"Some kind of prank?" Chloe offers another explanation.

It has to be, but, "I know what my exit looks like, Chloe." Aubrey pulls back into the gas station, remaining as far from the building as possible. The man from before is standing outside, a cigarette that he doesn't appear to be smoking clutched between his fingers – his arms at his sides. He watches them – still staring at record length. "Am I asleep on the couch right now?"

"What?" Chloe asks again.

God damn it. Aubrey probably sat down to wait for Chloe to get ready, and now she's passed out in a nightmare. "Wake me up. Pinch me."

"I'm not going to pinch you."

Aubrey pinches her instead.

"Ow, Aubrey! What even?!" Chloe back hands her across the chest.

It hurts.

Okay, Aubrey definitely does want to go home now. Her papers can wait. They can make spaghetti; that's Italian enough. She pulls back out and turns around, driving back toward the highway again. They can go home, cook dinner together, engage in a little _stress relief, _and then go to bed – and Aubrey can worry about work and dick heads who like to somehow switch exit signs tomorrow. She feels better until the road remains gravel for a little too long.

"Why did you go in a circle?" Chloe asks.

Aubrey states at the gas station up ahead. "I-" She pulls in and looks up and down the road. She _didn't _go in a circle. The man is still looking at them. "I drove back toward the highway, Chloe."

"Then why are we back here?"

Aubrey doesn't have anything to say. Nervous beads of sweat starting to form on her neck, and she looks around again, starting to feel dizzy with confusion.

Chloe stares at her along with the man – her face becoming tight with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm _fine_." Aubrey nods and puts the car into gear one more time.

"Why don't you let me drive?" Chloe asks and brushes the granola from her hands before she reaches over and squeezes Aubrey's arm. "You're tired."

Tired, sure, but not _that _tired.

"You can put your seat back," Chloe tempts her, sounding worried, "Relax…?"

No. Aubrey somehow got them in this place, and now she's going to take them home. She drives back down the road – the _only _road there, back toward the highway, the way they came in.

"I think we're going the wrong way," Chloe mentions as the trees begin to choke the car – bare branches scraping the roof and doors.

"Well, it's the way we came." There are only two ways to go, and it's hard to choose the wrong way when Aubrey had to physically turn the car around to choose the right one.

"This is weird, Bree, I don't like this." Chloe plays with the granola bar wrapper, twisting it between her hands.

"It's fine," Aubrey tries to reassure her, "I'll just…" Just _what_? "Find somewhere to turn around again." She glances at the clock. **8:35**. It's too late to be dealing with this – and it's dark. Her headlights are the only light she has on this fucking road. She turns on the high beams – illuminating the road, and a deer that freezes midway across it in front of her car, alarmed by the sudden blast of light.

"Aubrey!"

Aubrey slams her brakes – one hand flying out to protect Chloe, the other spinning the wheel in a sharp turn before Aubrey has a chance to even think. Her wheels skid across the gravel and the ice, and, along with Chloe shrieking, don't stop until her front end makes contact with a tree. Her airbags don't go off. Aubrey jolts forward without her seat belt on to keep her in place, and slams her forehead against the steering wheel with a loud cracking sound that ignites her entire body in pain. Everything, except the beating of Aubrey's heart, slows to an immediate standstill – and the engine sputters out.

There is a ringing in Aubrey's ears that feels like it lasts forever – only dissipating when the sound of Chloe crying breaks through. _Chloe. _Aubrey slowly slides her hands between her face and the steering wheel until she's holding her head. She expects to feel blood, but everything is dry. That means it's fine. Aubrey is fine. It just hurts. She lifts her head, temporarily blinded by a flash of light, then permanently only kind of blinded by tears that blur her vision. "Chloe, are you okay?" she panics.

Chloe nods from where she's still hiding behind her arms.

Aubrey gets the immediate urge to call 911, even if they both seem to be fine. She grabs her phone from the center console and hits the home button. _No service. _She crawls over Chloe's lap, grabbing her's from the floor where it fell. _No service. _Of course there's no service, they're surrounded by thick, heavy trees in god knows where. No, somewhere between home and Aubrey's job, that's where.

Chloe unbuckles her seat belt, and draws her feet up onto the seat, wrapping her arms around her chest – and Aubrey no longer believes she's okay.

"What's wrong?" Aubrey turns to kneel on her seat and uses her phone as a flashlight. At least it's good for that.

Chloe shakes her head and slowly lowers her legs back down, wiping her face with her palms. "I'm okay," she assures Aubrey, even though she sounds out of breath, "The seat belt crushed my chest for a second."

Aubrey pulls up the front of Chloe's shirt, without asking for permission, and shines the light at her ribs. The skin is red, but it doesn't look too bad. There doesn't appear to be any immediate swelling, and no bones look out of place.

"I'm okay," Chloe tells her again, and pulls her shirt back down, "It just scared me. Are _you _okay?"

Aubrey turns and pulls her mirror down, using the light to look at her forehead. It's also just red, but it sure fucking hurts to touch. She hisses as she presses against her own skin, a fresh wave of tears welling up in her eyes. She turns off the light before she wastes too much battery, and so she doesn't have to see Chloe looking at her like she might be dying from a little head bump.

"Aubrey, I smell smoke," Chloe states all of a sudden.

It's a little hard to smell anything over the stench of the gas station that seems to cling to the inside of Aubrey's nose, but Aubrey realizes she's right when she sees a tiny light flickering underneath the smashed in hood of her car. "_Shit. _Chloe, get your stuff." She gathers her things in a matter of seconds – jacket, phone, wallet, hat, gloves, scarf, keys – then practically falls out of the car when she tries to get up. Her car is _done for_. She stumbles away from it, collapsing sideways into a tree, where Chloe meets her on the other side.

"What do we do right now?" Chloe voices the dreaded question.

Aubrey shakes her head, then immediately regrets the harsh movement. "Put your jacket on; it's cold." A person could freeze in this weather. She wrestles her own winter clothes on, running purely on adrenaline. The hood of her car bursts into flames, and Aubrey does her best not to burst into more tears. The fire illuminates the horror on Chloe's face, and Aubrey can't even look at her. She can only watch her car burn – and hope it doesn't explode while they're standing there next to it in shock.

There is only one thing to do.

Aubrey knows it.

And she's sure Chloe knows it too.

They're going to have to walk back to the gas station.

She checks her phone for service again – noticing the time too.

**8:35**.

All of that in under one minute. That doesn't seem possible, but neither does Aubrey's car burning in front of her eyes. She _hit _a _tree_. Aubrey Posen and her perfect driving record smashed into a tree, and nearly _killed_ them both. She smacks the tree beside her like it's _that _tree's fault, then grabs it suddenly again to brace herself under an abrupt rush of nausea. It's not the tree's fault; it's _hers. _No, it's that stupid exit sign and that stupid gas station and that fucking deer. No, it's definitely _hers._

"Whoa, Aubrey, Honey." Chloe has Aubrey's hair away from her face just in time as her stomach heaves up the absolute nothing she's had to eat all day – as she spits mostly just saliva onto the tree roots. Chloe waits it out with her and tries to calm her down. "It's going to be okay."

Aubrey shivers under an ice cold gust of wind, and wraps her arms around herself, hugging her stomach once it settles. She stands up straight and looks at Chloe. "I'm sorry." That seems to be her mantra tonight. She should have let her drive. But how was she supposed to know this was going to happen? She isn't even sure she really understands what just happened – at least not up until smashing her head against the wheel. Maybe that's why she feels so disoriented. Maybe everything _was _normal, but now she has a concussion and that muddled her thinking.

Chloe pulls her into a hug and rubs her back. "You didn't make a deer jump out in front of us, Aubrey, it's okay." She pulls back and cups Aubrey's face. "You were just trying not to hit it."

"I almost killed us," Aubrey whispers – the terror of it starting to catch up with her. She shivers again, and her teeth start to chatter.

Chloe wipes her tears with her thumbs. "Come on," she says, and gives the car one last terrified look, "This wasn't your fault. Let's get out of here before you freeze."


	2. Chapter 2

**RJRMovieFan**: I have never seen Twilight Zone, tbh. I think my dream about this was probably inspired by an episode of Alice Isn't Dead that I was thinking about while walking the other day.  
**Joanshea**: Thank you.  
**Andiclauds**: Honestly, this dream has been haunting me, so I had to write it. It was really disturbing and vivid. I only changed a few parts of it that didn't seem to make sense. I cannot imagine this being a long story at all. Twenty chapters, maybe? It depends on where I cut the chapters as I go.

* * *

**Time Made of Ice and Glass**

* * *

_You saw my pain, washed out in the rain,_  
_Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins._  
_But you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart,_  
_And you knelt beside my hope torn apart._  
_\- Mumford and Sons_

* * *

The ground is loud under Aubrey's feet, and it sounds like she's walking on shards of glass. She stops to press the toe of her shoe against a patch of ice, breaking it in the middle. It's a really fucking terrible idea, because there is water underneath, and it makes her shoe wet.

"What are you doing?" Chloe asks and places her hand flat on Aubrey's back, urging her forward.

"Nothing." It's dark, but Aubrey can see her breath in front of her face. She cups her gloved hands in front of her mouth and breathes into them to warm them up. They feel even colder after she finishes exhaling, so she tucks them under her armpits. "How far do you think we drove?"

"I don't know." Chloe stuffs her hands into her pockets. "It can't be that far."

Aubrey sniffles. She's pretty sure her tears are freezing on her cheeks as they fall. Her car is on fire, against a _tree_. What if _everything_ catches on fire? What if everything in the near vicinity just burns down? Did she leave anything important in there?

Chloe walks directly beside her – quiet, except for her own occasional sniffling. It's too dark to see if she's crying or just cold – but Aubrey is imagining it's both. It's difficult not to tell her that she's sorry again. Only, she knows no apology can fix this.

"Does your chest still hurt?" Aubrey asks her.

"No," Chloe answers, "The pain is gone. How about you? It sounded like you hit something really hard."

"I feel fine." In reality, Aubrey's head is pounding. She lifts one hand against her forehead, still expecting to find blood. It's hard to tell with gloves on, but it doesn't even feel like there is a bump. She still feels sick to her stomach, but that's just her nerves being absolutely shot now. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, first her eyes, and then her nose, because as disgusting as it is, she can't stand the sniffling any longer.

Chloe doesn't argue it. She takes one hand out of her pocket to wrap her arm around Aubrey, and continues walking. "I think I see a light."

_Already? _Aubrey looks up. Sure enough, she can see the gas station sign in the distance. They definitely drove at least a little farther than this. "Something doesn't feel right, Chloe," she whispers. Something _isn't _right. Something is very wrong. "I don't feel right."

"Aubrey, was it your head that hit something?" Chloe asks seriously.

Aubrey doesn't really want to answer that question right now – to Chloe or to herself.

Chloe gives her a squeeze.

"I do not want to go back in there," Aubrey says as they reach the parking lot and that smell hits her again. She lifts the front of her scarf to cover her nose, but it just worsens as they walk toward the door, stinking even stronger than last time.

"I kind of smell it now," Chloe comments.

_Kind of_? It's filling up Aubrey's lungs – and, whatever it is, she does not want it inside her body.

"Do you want to wait out here?" Chloe asks, "I'll be two minutes – or, however long it takes to get people out here."

And let Chloe inside alone with that creepy man? _No. _Aubrey pulls the door open, and holds it open for Chloe, going inside right behind her.

"Howdy, Ladies," says an older gentleman from behind the counter. Definitely not the same person as before. This guy is in his fifties or sixties, grey hair, long scraggly beard that he scratches before he waves at them. "What can I do for you?"

Aubrey looks around for the other guy. "We need to use your phone."

"No can do," the man says and looks around too.

"It's an emergency," Chloe tells him.

"Our car crashed," Aubrey fills him in, "We need to call 911."

"Who died?" he asks.

"What? No one," Chloe answers, "It's on fire."

"Still can't use the phone," the man says.

Aubrey looks right at him – noticing now that he has a glass eye, and when he blinks, it's only with the other eye. The hiring manager clearly has a type. "Did you not hear that my car is on fire?"

"I heard ya," he says, "But we ain't got a phone."

"This is a business," Aubrey points out.

"Yep," he agrees.

"So you have to have a phone."

"Nope." He shakes his head and scratches his beard again. "No need. Don't get much business here outside the locals. You could try the bed and breakfast though. LeAnn might got one a those gadgets."

"Where is that?" Aubrey asks, eager to leave if he isn't going to provide them with what they need.

"Down the road on the right," he says, "Can't miss it. Literally got a big sign that says Bed and Breakfast hangin' o'er it."

Aubrey looks around one more time before she takes Chloe's hand and pulls her toward the door. "Where is the other guy?" she asks once her other hand comes to rest on the handle, "The one that was here before?"

"Ah, you musta met my son," the man says, then answers Aubrey's question before she can figure out how to ask it, "Sorry 'bout him. He ain't been the same since the accident. He can still ring up a customer though."

Aubrey opens the door and leaves – dragging a baffled Chloe outside with her.

"What was that?" Chloe asks, glancing inside through the window, "He didn't even care."

"I think we should walk back to the highway," Aubrey suggests, "Maybe we can flag down another car."

Chloe nods. "Which way?"

Aubrey looks at the road. "Right."

"Wait, didn't he say the Bed and Breakfast was to the right?" Chloe asks.

"He said it was _on _the right," Aubrey says, looking at Chloe, "We came from the right, so the Bed and Breakfast must be to the left on the right, right?" When she looks at the road again, everything seems to have turned around. Maybe they did come from the left…

Chloe touches her arm – her brows furrowed in concern. "Either way, we're going to end up at the highway with cars or somewhere with a phone," she says, "He said the Bed and Breakfast was right, so let's go left."

Aubrey is unable to argue, because left suddenly looks like right.

Chloe laces their fingers – and _she _leads the way.

xxxxx

The woods open up to a town square – rather than the highway like Aubrey hoped. Sure enough, the first building she sees is a white Victorian style mansion with a wooden sign that says **LeAnn's Bed and Breakfast** in bold black letters. Her first instinct is to run back in the opposite direction.

"I thought this was the right way," Chloe claims, "Should we go back?"

They're already here, Aubrey tries to be logical, they can ask for a phone, and _then _they can book it as fast as they can back to the highway. She shakes her head. "I hope karma hits you like I should have," she murmurs under her breath at the deer before they walk inside.

The front desk is unoccupied, and when Aubrey taps the bell, she half expects the man with the blinking problem to appear out of nowhere again. Instead, it's a young woman in a turtle neck who casually walks in from another room. It stills throws Aubrey off, because when Aubrey pictures Bed and Breakfasts, she imagines them run by little old grandparent type couples who call you 'dear' and try to force feed you baked goods that you would feel guilty to refuse.

"Good evening," the woman, who Aubrey assumes is LeAnn, greets them, "Are you looking for a room?"

"No." Aubrey's voice shakes. She's starting to feel desperate now. "We need a phone. Our car crashed."

"Oh no." LeAnn's eyes grow big. "Is everyone okay?" She pulls an old rotary out from behind the desk and places it on the counter.

Aubrey hasn't seen a rotary phone since she was a little girl visiting her grandparents' house. It went to her aunt after her grandma died – hanged herself when she found out Aubrey's grandfather was with another woman. He took himself out not long after, the exact same way. She pulls the phone toward her and lifts it to her ear.

"I think for the most part," Chloe answers the woman's question.

Aubrey spins the dial to '9' then to '1' and then '1' again. She receives an error tone and then, '_We're sorry, the number you have reached is currently unavailable. Please, check the number or try your call again._' She places the phone back down – then stands there, trying to process that her call didn't go through.

"It's an old phone," LeAnn explains, "It does that sometimes. It usually works the second time around."

Aubrey picks it back up without another word and holds it to her ear again as she redials.

"_911,_" an operator picks up almost immediately, "_What's your emergency_?"

Aubrey closes her eyes in relief. "My car crashed," she explains quickly, "It's on fire right now. We need some help."

"_Is anyone in the car, Ma'am_?" the operator asks.

"No," Aubrey answers, "We're both out."

"_Are you a safe distance away from the vehicle?"_

"Yes," Aubrey answers her again, "We walked to the nearest town. But it's on fire in the woods."

"_Alright. Does anyone have any injuries?"_

"I don't know." Aubrey rubs her forehead. It really hurts.

"_You don't know?"_

"Can you please send somebody?" Aubrey asks.

"_Where is your car located, Ma'am?"_

It occurs to Aubrey that she has no idea where her car is. She doesn't even know where she is right now. She grabs a brochure from the desk and locates the address in it. "I can tell you where I am," she says, then reads off the address to her.

"_Can you tell me your name?"_

"Aubrey Posen."

"_Aubrey, that address isn't showing up. Let me try tracking your call."_

Aubrey pulls her hand away from Chloe's and nervously starts to fold the corners of the brochure.

"_Okay, Aubrey?"_

"Yes?"

"_I pulled up your location. There are some heavy snow squalls headed in your direction, and it sounds like you're not in any immediate danger right now. We will send someone out as soon as we can."_

"We need somebody right now," Aubrey insists.

"_I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do for you. You'll have to stay where you are for right now, unless you decide to leave."_

"How?" Aubrey snaps, "How am I supposed to leave when my car is on fire?"

"_Maybe you have someone who you can call to come get you? You can go with them?"_

The corners of Aubrey's lips twitch. She's about to verbally assault this person so the police will come get her. Instead, she quietly thanks her for her time, then slowly lowers the phone.

"What did they say?" Chloe asks, "How long?"

"They said they'll send somebody as soon as they can," Aubrey tells her, making a clear effort to speak without any sign of emotion, "Which doesn't sound like very soon."

Chloe stares at her – and, for the briefest moment, it reminds Aubrey of that same unblinking stare from the gas station. But then she blinks and looks around. "Do you want to try walking back to the highway?"

"The highway?" LeAnn asks, "That's miles away, and there's another storm rolling in."

Aubrey looked at the weather earlier – and it said that it was supposed to be cold, but clear.

"I'll tell you what," LeAnn says, "Due to the circumstances, I'll give you a night here free of charge. You can sleep on what you want to do."

Aubrey looks at Chloe. "I don't want to stay the night here," she mouths.

"We'll take it," Chloe tells LeAnn, "But we're still going to see if we can find our way out of here tonight."

"Alright. I won't argue with that." LeAnn turns and grabs a key from a hook on the wall. She hands it to Chloe. "Room 8. It's up the stairs, first room on the right, right next to the emergency exit."

"Thanks." Chloe takes the key. "Come on." She nods to Aubrey.

Aubrey reluctantly follows her to the stairs – because she can't think of another option yet.

The room is exactly where LeAnn said it was going to be – right next to a large, glowing red sign that says '**EXIT**', a great reminder of how this all happened. Somehow, Aubrey missed the exit – only she didn't. She _didn't_.

Chloe unlocks the door and holds it open for her. "Go sit down. I want to look at your head."

Aubrey does what's asked of her. She position herself on the very edge of the bed, god she hates hotel beds, and rests her hands in her lap. She's still cold, even inside.

Chloe shuts the door and turns on the light, then strips off her winter clothes and tosses them on top the dresser. "Scoot back."

Aubrey shakes her head.

Chloe sighs and decides to straddle her lap, examining Aubrey's forehead with her eyes and her hands. "How bad does it hurt?"

Aubrey shrugs.

Chloe lowers her hands to their laps, and for a moment, they look covered in blood. On second glance, they're not. "You should rest."

Aubrey closes her eyes. "You know there is something wrong here, Chloe. Something is not _right. _We have to leave." How is she so calm?

"Bree, this is a weird town, but I also think you're in shock."


	3. Chapter 3

**Joanshea: **Thanks!

* * *

**Time Made of Ice and Glass**

* * *

_You saw my pain, washed out in the rain,_  
_Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins._  
_But you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart,_  
_And you knelt beside my hope torn apart._  
_\- Mumford and Sons_

* * *

"I'm going to see if they have food here," Chloe says.

"I'm not hungry." Aubrey is still sitting on the edge of her bed with her jacket on.

"I am," Chloe says, "And you haven't eaten at all yet today, so I think you should try to eat."

How can either of them try to eat right now? Aubrey finally scoots back to sit crisscross, and looks down at her lap.

"Take your coat off," Chloe demands gently and opens the door, "I'll be right back."

Aubrey shakes her head once the door closes and she's alone, burying her face in her hands as she crumbles. Fuck dispatch. Fuck the police. Fuck the fire department. Only _Aubrey _can prevent forest fires? No, Smokey the Bear is probably watching his habitat burn down, and Aubrey is pretty sure the fire department could be doing something about that too. She lifts her head and tugs at the zipper of her jacket, letting her coat fall to the bed behind her. She pulls off her gloves, scarf, and hat, and lays those neatly on top of it.

Unlike Chloe's things, Aubrey's don't just get strewn across the nearest hard surface. She folds her things inside her jacket, and places them in one of the dresser drawers.

This is quickly turning into the worst day of Aubrey's life.

She tries to look at herself in the mirror above the dresser to check her forehead and wipe the tear streaks from her face with her palms. The room light turns off, leaving her staring at the dark. Did she break a mirror? Walk under a ladder? _What_? She reaches beside her, feeling along the wall until she finds the light switch. It's down. She flips it back up, and the light turns back on. She places her fingers on her forehead and examines her hairline.

The light turns back off.

Aubrey slams her hands down on the dresser – Chloe's jacket softening the impact. She turns the light back on, and it turns itself back off again.

Great, just great, the hotel is haunted.

Aubrey turns it on again.

It turns off.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

Aubrey growls and starts flipping it on and off herself as fast as she can, trying to prove some sort of point. What point, she doesn't know, but she's going to prove it. Because Aubrey is not scared of ghosts. Is she scared of mice? _Sure_. Bees? _Who isn't? _Germs? _Listen… _Apparitions that want to save electricity by turning out the lights? _No. _That girl from The Exorcist who vomited pea soup holds nothing on Aubrey who once threw up all over the first three rows at an A Capella competition – and she wasn't even possessed, just nervous. So, this ghost or demon or curse that Creeper Craig from the tech department might have put on her after she told him to take his head out of his ass yesterday can join her list of things that can go fuck themselves.

"Aubrey, _what _are you doing?" Chloe asks, as she opens the door to come back inside, empty-handed, "I can see the light turning on and off from under the door."

Aubrey stops with her hand holding the light switch up. "Chloe," she says slowly, "This is going to sound crazy, but this town has a Poltergeist." It's not just the room, Aubrey decides. It's this entire place.

Chloe shuts the door. "We've had the Poltergeist talk."

Mhm, yeah, when Chloe couldn't sleep for a week after watching a horror movie, and Aubrey had to convince her that it was the cat knocking dishes off the counter at night, not an angry spirit.

"You don't even believe in ghosts," Chloe points out.

"I changed my mind." Aubrey looks at her, dead serious.

Chloe looks back at her – like Aubrey has lost her mind. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again for a moment. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing with the light," she apparently decides to entertain Aubrey's theory.

"The Poltergeist wants the light off," Aubrey explains, "And I want it on." She moves her hand, slightly worried that the light is going to stay on and make her look even crazier, but thank Satan that after a few moments, it turns off. "See?"

"Not in the dark, I can't," Chloe says.

Aubrey turns it back on and holds the switch again – her lower lip starting to tremble.

Chloe frowns. "It's probably some sort of technical problem, Aubrey." Since when is Chloe the logical one? "Please, come sit down. The lady at the front said she'd bring us some food leftover from dinner after she heats it up."

"No," Aubrey refuses.

"Let's say it _is _a Poltergeist," Chloe entertains her again, "You can't challenge a Poltergeist to a battle of wills. You're going to make it angry. Come sit."

Chloe can just watch her_. _Aubrey presses her hand harder against the light switch and straightens her back. "It's making _me _angry."

"It's not _real_."

"Then why do you care if I fight it?"

"I'm more concerned that you're trying to fight something not real," Chloe replies, "And…also that if Poltergeists were real, you'd pick fights with them."

"I am not the one who started this fight." But, like all fights, Aubrey will be the one to finish it.

There is a knock on the door.

Chloe gets up to open it, frowning at Aubrey the whole way there.

Aubrey sticks by her words, because even if she's wrong, which she probably is, the problem is a Poltergeist now, because Aubrey is never wrong.

"You're acting weird, Aubrey," Chloe informs her.

"_You're _weird," Aubrey shoots back, offended.

"Okay, well you're the one bickering with Casper right now…" Chloe opens the door to LeAnn and a tray of food. "Can you look at our light?" she asks her, "Before my wife tries to perform an exorcism on it? It keeps turning off, apparently."

_Apparently?!_

"Oh," LeAnn says, and walks inside. She places the tray on top of the dresser next to Chloe's jacket. "We did some remodeling, and whoever installed these new switches was supposed to come back with new ones. They were recalled for a manufacturing error, and half of them here are loose." She opens the drawer, and pulls out a roll of tape. "Sorry, I wasn't prepared for any guests in this room tonight." Aubrey moves her hand, and LeAnn tapes the light switch up, then hands the tape roll to Aubrey.

Aubrey's hands hang limply by her sides with it.

"Come see me if you need anything else," LeAnn tells them.

"Thank you." Chloe closes the door after she walks out, then looks at Aubrey with a clear '_I told you so_' expression.

"It may have won the battle, but it hasn't won the war," Aubrey announces and throws the tape roll on top of Chloe's things as she walks to the bed.

"Are you done?" Chloe asks.

"No." Aubrey pouts and folds her arms as she sits down.

"Okay," Chloe disengages with her _for now_, and picks up the tray of food, "I really think you should try to eat something even though you're stressed. We might need strength to walk back to the highway in the morning."

Aubrey glances at the food with disinterest. But Chloe has a point. It doesn't look all that great though. The macaroni and cheese looks too cheesy, and Aubrey does _not _eat hotdogs. (Only on special occasions when there is a cookout.) This is not a special occasion. This is a traumatizing event.

Chloe places the tray in the middle of the bed, then lies down on her side and picks up a fork. She takes a bite and chews it slowly. "It's not _bad_." She pokes her fork into a few more macaroni, then offers it to Aubrey.

Aubrey tries it. It tastes how burning rubber smells. She makes a face and hands the fork back, forcing herself to chew and swallow.

Chloe edges a glass of water her way.

The water is so cold, it makes Aubrey's teeth hurt. She draws up her knees and rests her forehead against them.

"Do you wanna lay down?" Chloe asks, her mouth half full.

Aubrey shakes her head. It's bad enough to be sitting on this bed that isn't hers. Aubrey doesn't know when these blankets were last washed, or how well. She knows when her _own _bed set was last cleaned, because _she _cleaned it.

Chloe gets up and places the tray on the nightstand.

"Where are you going?" Aubrey asks and lifts her head.

"Right here." Chloe stops by the dresser and picks up her jacket. She carries it back with her, and moves to sit crisscross at the top of the bed with it. She pulls Aubrey across the bed, and helps situate her laying down, her head in Chloe's lap. "Close your eyes." She covers Aubrey up with her jacket.

"I thought you were hungry," Aubrey comments.

Chloe reaches to the side and picks up the fork, able to eat from where she is. Her other hand strokes Aubrey's hair, successful in grounding her a little bit – at least for a few seconds.

"What time is it?" Aubrey asks, starting to feel tired, not that she's going to actually be able to sleep.

Chloe reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out her phone.

"It's 8:35."


	4. To Be Deleted

If you're seeing this note, chances are this story will be deleted by Sunday, November 22. I appreciate everyone who has left positive comments on my work and helped me grow as a writer over the past 16 years, and I wish you all the best. Unfortunately, even with all the positive, I have always been ill-equipped to handle the negative reviews and personal attacks that also come with sharing my work publicly. And they are harder to get over now more than ever. I feel, however, it's unfair to delete my stories without giving those who enjoyed them a chance to reread them one last time.


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